repeated by all
the rest, directed Captain Staunton's gaze once more landward.

"Look--look--merciful powers, it is Ralli!" was Lance's horrified
exclamation as he grasped the skipper convulsively by the shoulder and
pointed with a trembling hand to the shore.

Sure enough it _was_ Ralli. The pirates had either not waited to seek
him, or had not thought of looking for him in the cottage before setting
out on their expedition against the shipyard, and he had consequently
been left there. But somehow--doubtless in the desperation of mortal
fear excited by the dreadful phenomena in operation around him--he had
at last succeeded in freeing himself from his bonds, and was now seen
running toward the beach, screaming madly for help.

The stream of lava was only a few yards behind him, and it had now
spread out to the entire width of the very narrow valley. The unhappy
wretch was flying for his life; terror seemed to have endowed him with
superhuman strength and speed, and for a moment it almost appeared as
though he would come out a winner in the dreadful race.

"'Bout ship!" sharply rang out the skipper's voice; "he is a fiend
rather than a man, but he must not perish thus horribly if we can save
him."

He put the helm hard down as he spoke, and the schooner shot up into the
wind, with her sails sluggishly flapping. But before she had time to
get fairly round the helm was suddenly righted and then put hard up.

"Keep all fast," commanded Captain Staunton, "it is too late; no mortal
power can save him. See! he is already in the grasp of his fate."

Such was indeed the case. The fierce breath of that onward-rolling
flood of fire was upon him; its scorching heat sapped his strength; he
staggered and fell. With the rapidity of a lightning flash he was up
and away again; but--Merciful God--see! his clothing is all ablaze; and
listen to those dreadful shrieks of fear and agony--Ah! miserable
wretch, now the flood itself is upon him; see how the waves of fire curl
round him--he throws up his arms with a harsh despairing blood-curdling
yell--he sinks--he is gone--and the surging fiery river sweeps grandly
on until it plunges with an awful hissing sound into the waters of the
bay and the whole scene becomes blotted out by the vast curtain of steam
which shoots up and spreads itself abroad.

"What a night of horror! it is hell upon earth!" gasps the skipper, as
he turns his eyes away and devotes himself once more solely